


a dash of rain and a pinch of shine

by glissandos



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Baking, Fluff, Fluffy, Kissing, M/M, Roommates, Strangers to Lovers, just soft and sweet and cheesy lol, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23237164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glissandos/pseuds/glissandos
Summary: Jisung is now far more interwoven into his life than just a pinch of sunlight, more than the shimmering rays that poke through the clouds at the end of the day.If Minho’s life is a bowl ofsomething,Jisung is a heaping cupful of brightness and sunshine whisked into the mix so thoroughly, so permanently, that Minho could never hope to, or want to, sift him back out.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 16
Kudos: 253
Collections: Minsung





	a dash of rain and a pinch of shine

The first time Minho meets his future roommate, he’s baking cookies. The smell of cinnamon and honey wafts up to his nose as Minho stands in the doorway of the dorm room. The boy is humming a cheerful tune under his breath and Minho drinks in the syrupy sound and the smell of snickerdoodles. 

Eventually Minho walks up to the dorm’s small countertop, leaving his two large bags of belongings in the hallway. The countertop is overflowing with bowls and cups of ingredients. Behind the bag of flour, Minho offers a greeting. 

“Oh, hello!” The boy swivels around and he has stray particles of flour or sugar or both on his cheeks and his eyes are shimmering beautifully. “I’m Jisung! And the email I got tells me that you’re Minho.”

He offers a flour-dusted hand out, and Minho shakes it. 

Jisung’s smile is really pretty and heart-shaped, Minho notices. The way his eyes scrunch up doesn’t help. 

Then a timer beeps somewhere, and Minho realizes he’s been holding onto Jisung’s palm for a moment too long. He releases it, and offers a small smile in return. 

“I have to take these across the hall so I can put them in the oven, but I’ll be right back.” Jisung says, grabbing a pan covered with dollops of soft dough. Minho notices another pan to the side—a batch of cookies that have already gone through the oven. They smell amazing.

As if he can read Minho’s mind, Jisung calls out “feel free to try one!” as he sprints out the door, almost running into Minho’s luggage, which is still out in the hallway, in the process. 

Minho hesitantly picks up a snickerdoodle and takes a bite. The warmth of it, freshly baked, seems to travel throughout his body. The cookie is soft and sweet, but not too much of each. The honey also gives it a slightly chewy texture. It’s good. Before he knows it, the cookie’s gone.

Minho is pulling his belongings into the dorm when Jisung comes back. 

“What ingredients did you put in the cookies?” Minho asks. He’s curious. 

“Lots of sugar,” Jisung muses, laughing. “A bit of honey. Oh! And a pinch of sunshine!” He winks at Minho, as if it’s all an elaborate secret, and Minho feels his heart thumping loud, loud, loud. 

Roommates for at least an entire year? Minho’s kinda screwed.

\---

“It’s raining. Why is it raining? The forecast said there was literally a ten percent chance of rain and now it’s pouring.” It’s the weekend after finals, and Jisung flops, back-first, onto the floor, splaying his arms and legs out like a starfish. “We were gonna go to the beach today. I had everything planned out,” he continues, dejectedly, blowing a strand of hair out of his eyes. 

Minho kicks him with a socked foot and only a little remorse. “Get up, the ground’s dirty,” Minho says, ignoring Jisung’s pout and pointedly looking away from his lips. Someday, Minho swears, Jisung’s lips are going to be the death of him. Soft and delicate and so, so, entrancing when he smiles, and...

“Even if we can’t go to the beach, that doesn’t mean you have to lie here and whine about it like a child,” Minho tells him, choosing to look out the window as the rain falls in buckets. He can hear the sound of it splattering down on the ground outside, and it is kind of rhythmic and soothing. 

Though, Jisung prefers the sun more. 

Jisung groans and pulls himself up from the ground. “But… but…” he trails off, and oh no Minho does not like the look on Jisung’s face. 

“I have an idea,” Jisung proclaims. In the seconds that follow, Jisung is in the kitchen, opening the cabinets and peering inside the fridge and shaking containers to see what’s full and what’s not. 

Minho has an increasingly bad feeling about this. 

“How about we bake something together?” Jisung asks, already pulling out the bag of flour from underneath the counter. 

Minho, for the life of him, cannot bake. Jisung knows this. Jisung only bakes for fun, but he definitely _can_ bake. Which is probably why Jisung’s sporting an infuriating smirk and his eyes are twinkling to the stars and back. 

But. Finals have just ended. They deserve to do something enjoyable, even if it means Minho horribly screwing up the recipe in ways never-before imagined. 

Minho decides to humor him. It’s not like he would do anything else anyway, considering how Jisung is now far more interwoven into his life than just a pinch of sunlight, more than the shimmering rays that poke through the clouds at the end of the day. 

If Minho’s life is a bowl of _something,_ Jisung is a heaping cupful of brightness and sunshine whisked into the mix so thoroughly, so permanently, that Minho could never hope to, or want to, sift him back out.

“Fine. But just this once,” Minho relents, deliberately tucking away the satisfaction he feels when Jisung’s mouth splits into a brilliant smile. He ignores the flopping his heart is doing in his chest, a feeling he should be used to by now—but still isn’t. 

“Okay, what do you wanna bake? We should do something extra sweet to compensate for the dull weather outside,” Jisung says. 

_Nothing could ever compare to the sweetness of your smile,_ Minho thinks. It’s gross and cheesy, but it’s true. He’s not stupid enough to say it out loud, though.

They both deserve to treat themselves after weeks of hard studying. “How about some sort of cake, then?” Minho replies instead. “You like strawberries, right?” Well, Minho likes strawberries too, but Jisung is somewhat of a berry fanatic. 

“You’re in luck! We do have strawberries,” Jisung eagerly pulls the plastic container out of the fridge, before darting back and forth between cabinets to get the other ingredients. 

And it begins. 

In retrospect, Minho is probably guilty of giving in to Han Jisung’s smile one too many times. 

They end up with flour all over the counters and floor after Minho accidentally knocks a cupful over. 

And then Minho’s whisking eggs together in a bowl with a fork, and then Jisung’s suddenly pressed up behind him, and his hands are on Minho’s. (“You’re not doing it right!” “This looks right enough to me!”). Minho crosses invisible fingers and hopes Jisung can’t hear his heart beating against its ribcage harder than any of the eggs they’re beating at the moment.

Jisung’s palms are soft as they guide his own in the so-called “proper” stirring movement, and Minho thinks he’s going to burn up where Jisung’s hands are making contact with him. Jisung’s breath ghosts the back of his neck and he almost shivers, wills himself to show no reaction.

“There you go.” Jisung finally lets go of him, satisfied, and Minho, stupid Minho, misses the heat that Jisung provides.

Not much later, Jisung gets vanilla extract on his fingers and he starts licking it off and Minho might let his imagination wander a bit too much as Jisung’s tongue rolls over the tip of his thumb, then index finger. 

Minho blinks back to reality, but by the time he does, much more than the called-for amount of half a cup of milk has trickled into the measuring cup. Luckily, Jisung doesn’t seem to notice as he pours milk back into the carton. 

His feelings are a mess, Minho thinks, just like the mess of flour and milk and sugar and everything they’ll have to clean up at the end of this. Still, he can’t regret any of it. 

And then. 

Jisung takes the cake down the hallway to stick it in the oven. Minho is in the middle of wiping down the counters when he comes back. 

And then. 

And then, and then… Jisung is right there. Minho doesn’t dare blink as Jisung’s hand moves closer, closer, before he’s gripping Minho’s face. 

And maybe he imagines it, but Minho thinks for a moment that Jisung’s gaze darts down, down, in the direction of his own lips, before flashing back up. 

Jisung’s thumb wipes across Minho’s cheek, barely scraping the corner of his mouth, and then it’s gone. The moment’s gone. Minho lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. 

“You had some flour there,” Jisung says, by way of explanation. 

Funny, when Jisung’s face probably has far more flour strewn across it. But Minho can’t bring himself to do the same. If he brought his hand up to cup Jisung’s jaw, Minho thinks, he might feel tempted to kiss him.

Minho glances away, breaks eye contact with Jisung before it’s too late. He doesn’t see the way Jisung’s mouth momentarily turns down into a frown, or the way his eyes lose some of their usual sparkle. 

It doesn’t matter—the moment’s gone. It was all in Minho’s head, anyway. 

\--- 

Later, Jisung brings the cake back from the oven and they ice and frost it together, though not before Jisung squirts out a cute white cat face, whiskers included, onto the back of Minho’s hand. Minho’s heart flutters and skips a beat and he retaliates by drawing a pink sun on Jisung’s. 

He gives the sun a smiley face, for extra measure. 

Minho is rewarded by Jisung’s gigantic grin, and eyes disappearing behind pretty lashes. Minho mirrors it with his own goofy smile back. 

They add the final touch—fresh strawberries—to the cake, and then it’s all done. 

A bit reluctantly, they wash off the frosting drawings. At least Minho does; Jisung just licks off the art and rinses his hands afterward, unaware of the effect of his actions on Minho. 

“It looks really good, but I wonder how it tastes,” Minho says, thoughtfully. He probably made a mistake in the recipe somewhere, but hopefully not a huge one. He’s pretty sure he didn’t mix up teaspoons and tablespoons, this time. 

“I know it’ll taste good,” Jisung proudly declares. There’s a knowing glint in his eye, again. The cake still sits there, yet to be cut.

Minho stares at him suspiciously. “Why?” 

“Because I’m going to put in the special ingredient!” Jisung answers, bouncing on the balls of his feet adorably. Minho swallows all the feelings threatening to burst from his throat. 

“Sun...shine?” Minho finally gets the words out. “But it’s raining today?”

“Yup!” Jisung replies, delighted at Minho’s words.

“Uh...okay?” Minho decides to go along with it, for now. He crosses his arms and leans his back against the counter, grinning. “Where’s your sunshine stored?” 

Jisung stops bouncing on his feet. He looks a bit nervous, now. “We have to add the sunshine together,” he tells Minho.

“Sure,” Minho says, amused, waiting for Jisung to finally relent and admit it’s a ruse.

Jisung continues, anyway. “Okay. Procuring the sunshine now!” he announces, and then Minho’s brain goes blank, devoid of any coherent thought.

Because Jisung’s face is suddenly the only thing in his vision. And Jisung’s eyes are squeezed shut as he leans forward and his fingers delicately wrap around Minho’s jaw and Minho’s breath catches in his throat. 

Minho feels his own eyes flutter shut unconsciously, and then there’s the slightest press of Jisung’s mouth on his. His lips are soft and so gentle, like dewdrops in the morning sun. Minho feels his entire body shiver—with warmth. 

Jisung’s lips slip away but his hands are still there, still gently cupping the curve of Minho’s face. Minho opens his eyes again and Jisung is beaming at him, wide, wide smile bright enough to rival all the suns in the universe. It's blinding. Minho’s own mouth hurts as he uncontrollably smiles back. 

“Got the sunshine,” Jisung whispers slyly, the words delightfully ringing in Minho’s ears.

Minho might be blushing, but he doesn’t care. Dizzily, he brings his arms around Jisung’s waist and draws him closer again, their lips meeting in the middle. His back is pressing against the counter but it doesn’t matter, because they’re both smiling into the kiss and it really is like Minho’s being pulled up against the sun, like he’s consuming rays of sweet sunlight. Jisung tastes like rosy pink icing and sugar and vanilla extract and strawberries and Minho thinks that there’s no way the cake could ever match this, even with the special ingredient. Because this _is_ the special sunshine.

They pull apart once more for air, and Jisung’s eyes glimmer mesmerizingly like an unprecedented rainbow in the midst of a storm. He envelopes Minho in a tight embrace and rests his head into the crook of Minho’s neck. Minho exhales shakily and gloriously revels in the warmth of it all. Around them, the rain pitter-patters and it matches the rapid beat of Minho’s slowly-calming heart. 

Jisung leans back again and looks up at him, giggling. “Want to cut the cake?” His eyes are fond and loaded with emotions and just—wow—Minho is not dreaming.

“Just a moment,” Minho replies, reluctant to detach himself from Jisung. 

Jisung darts upward and presses another soft, shy, kiss to his mouth before prying himself off of Minho. He watches as Jisung makes a show of dramatically sprinkling “sunshine” into the cake. 

The cake turns out surprisingly well; tart and sweet and not too dry or crumbly—well worth the day’s efforts. 

But… Minho’s pretty sure the icing on the cake is Jisung. 

It’s still sprinkling outside, but all Minho can feel are the lingering, dazzling rays of sun. 

**Author's Note:**

> Fingers crossed that there weren't too many inaccuracies since I am neither good at baking nor do I currently live in a dorm lol. Anyway, if you're here, hopefully you enjoyed it!


End file.
